Any War but This One
by Der Traumer
Summary: The story behind the woman Marcus threatens to harm if Hobbes won't work for the V's.
1. one

**A/N:** 1. This piece isn't canon, but it's not really AU either. I suppose it falls neatly into that "slight AU" category, what with the introduction of another character and Hobbes having a house. 2. I didn't tag this as Romance for a reason. Unfortunately, boiling sexual tension is not a genre choice. 3. This is the first time in more than a decade I've named a character Sarah (my own name). That's nothing to read into, though. 4. I have not finished writing this (I'm a little more than half way) and I'm breaking my own rule starting to post chapters before the entire work is complete. I wanted this to be up and running before the season finale next week in case the archive dies.

**Disclaimer:** the 2009 remake of _V_ belongs to Kenneth Johnson, and I make no profit from the scribbling of this work

**Claimer:** Sarah, all associated back story, and play of events involving her, are mine

**Warnings** _(entire work, not chapter by chapter)_**:** language, violence, sexuality, mild adult content

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**Any War but This One  
**_One: Hobbes gets more than he bargained for at a routine weapons pick up._

Hobbes propped his elbow on the open window's edge and rested his cheek in his palm so he could look into the SUV's side mirror from a new angle. The view still showed nothing but empty clearing and trees. Garrick never used to run late.

When the familiar rusting green pick up did finally rattle onto the gravel behind him, he flung his door open and hollered, "Garrick Finnegan, y'old geezer, and here I was beginning to think in your old age you'd forgotten where this place was." In reality, the man being teased was only three years Hobbes senior, but Hobbes enjoyed ribbing him anyway. He opened his mouth to add another jab about assisted living facilities, but shut it abruptly when the truck's driver side door opened.

Standing something like five six in leather boots, dark jeans that fit like a second skin, and a snug maroon top, she was most certainly not the salt and pepper haired, slightly balding, and very beer gutted Garrick. She pushed a hand through her hair to get the tousled brown locks out of her face and tossed her motorcycle jacket back into the car.

"Well hello… Not that I mind the change of scenery," Hobbes very deliberately eyed the girl from feet to head, "But where's Garrick?"

She turned to walk around to the back of the truck and answered over her shoulder, "If Dad knew you looked at me like that, he'd have you shot." Hobbes heard the creak of her opening the bed.

He jogged around to join her behind the pick up, swallowing and choking on any future lewd remarks he might have made. "Sarah?"

She hauled out a five-foot metal suitcase and set it on the ground without looking at him.

"Sarah… shit – "

She squatted beside the case to unhook the latches.

"I'm sorry. I didn't – "

"Recognize me?" Tossing her hair out of her face, she looked up at him and grinned.

"Brat."

"How could I really expect you to, hmm? How many years 's it been?" She flipped open the heavy lid.

"I dunno… how old are ya now?" He got down beside her.

Sarah eyed him sidelong. "It's rude to ask a lady her age."

"You weren't a lady last I saw you. Playing in the dirt. Making mud pies."

Sarah's cheeks and the bridge of her nose reddened. "I was six!" she protested. "And I did not make mud pies…"

"Ah… that's right." Hobbes tipped his head back and tapped his chin, feigning to be struggling to remember. "It was a misshapen apple pie – much tastier than mud, those – and I believe it had a ring stuck in the middle. After I nearly choked on it, you asked me to marry you."

Sarah very intently studied the rocket launcher in its foam molding and grumbled, "Shuttup." In what Hobbes was certain was a nervous habit, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "This is the biggest one we could get. It's got four missiles." She touched each one reverently. "Also got your six assault rifles, plus ammunition, and the three RPGs you wanted, extra grenades of course." She braced an elbow on her knee and studied Hobbes intently. "Dad says this is an expensive haul for you lately, Kyle. The hell are you up to?"

"I'm sure you know the drill. 'F I told ya that, I'd have ta kill you," he answered with a wink and a crooked smile, reaching into his back pocket. He took out a wad of rubber-banded cash and handed it to Sarah.

She took it and absently flipped through the bills before tucking them in her own back pocket, though Hobbes wasn't sure how the thick folds of money fit. "Need help getting it all in your car?"

"Need? Nah. But you're welcome to gimme hand if ya want."

Sarah closed the rocket launcher's case with a snort and a shake of her head then stood to get more cases out of the truck's bed.

Loading the entire arsenal into the trunk and backseat of Hobbes' SUV was a fifteen minute ordeal that left Sarah embarrassingly out of breath and wiping her palms on her jeans. Hobbes hadn't broken a sweat.

"Hey, thanks, kid," he said, closing the hatch, "And tell your old man, thanks, too."

"Yeah." Sarah gulped another breath. "Of course." She turned back to her truck.

She was opening the driver's side door when Hobbes called, "Sarah?"

She poked her head around the door's frame. "Yeah?"

"Come back to my place. Tell me about how you and your dad have been over something to drink."

Sarah paused, pushed her hair back from her face, and nodded. "Sure. Lead the way."

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**A/N:** Don't let this archive die! Please keep reading and writing V! P.S. next chapter up later tonight. a long argument with my beta reader later, I've decided the dialogue needs work.


	2. two

**A/N:** As promised. I've been fighting it (and my beta, who I'm sure I'll stop wanting to harm shortly) for hours. Enjoy!

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**Any War but This One**_  
Two: Hobbes and Sarah argue over beer._

Hobbes took two beers out of the fridge and popped the caps off on the counter. Dropping into the seat across from Sarah at his kitchen table, he pushed one toward her. "So what's Garrick been up to these days?"

Sarah held the brown glass bottle with both hands and peered down the neck at its cold amber contents. "Sitting on his fat ass watching Netflix and drinking Guinness, collecting cash while his minions do all the hard work. Same as always." She dropped an elbow on the table and propped her chin in it, grinning cheekily before taking a quick sip of her beer.

The grimace flickered across her face so quickly Hobbes almost missed it.

"You're not old enough to drink that are you?"

"Well…" The lack of immediate response was answer enough.

"Give me that!" Hobbes swiped the full bottle from her and rocked onto the back two legs of his chair to put it on the counter.

Sarah stretched across the table after him. "I'm like… two months from twenty-one! Come on!"

"You didn't even like it! Do you _want_ your father to kill me?"

Rolling her eyes, Sarah leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. Hobbes laughed and stood to get her a soda from the fridge instead. Sarah took it with a pout and popped the tab.

"So Garrick's his same ol' fat happy self…" Hobbes smiled and took a slow drink from his beer. "How've you been?"

"I've been fine." She traced the tip of her finger around the rim of the offending soda can.

"Going to school?"

Sarah looked up from her drink to quirk an eyebrow at him. "No…?"

"What are you doing then?"

"Taking over Dad's business? What's it look like?"

Hobbes chuckled. "Running a delivery to a family friend is hardly taking over the business."

Sarah sat up straighter in her seat. "I'm not just running deliveries," she bristled, "Dad's been introducing me to his contacts, tellin' his guys they better listen to me 'cuz he wants to retire soon."

"And how are Garrick's 'guys' handling listening to a little girl?" Hobbes cocked his head to the side.

"I'm not a little girl. They listen to me just fine." She squared her shoulders.

Hobbes shook his head. "And Garrick's contacts, I bet they like you a lot."

"No more or less than you liked me." She leaned her head on her palm, smiling lazily.

Hobbes could tell she thought she'd one. He let out a humorless laugh, looked away from Sarah, and took a drink from his beer.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he answered, almost sing-song.

Sarah's eyes narrowed. "You don't think I can do this. You don't think I can run Dad's business just as good as he did." Her voice increased gradually in volume.

"I didn't say that."

"But you're thinking it, you ass!" Sarah got up from the table and almost walked into Erica on her way out of the kitchen.

"Uhm…" Erica froze in mid motion of knocking on the wall beside the fridge. "The door was unlocked, we were worried… but if this is a bad time…" Jack was looking into the kitchen over Erica's shoulder.

Sarah whirled back around. "You left the door unlocked? And _I_ don't belong in this business?" She put her hands on her hips.

Hobbes ignored her. "Now's fine. Sarah was just on her way out. I'll meet you downstairs." He walked her to the front door.

Sarah paused with her hand on the doorknob.

Gunshots sounded in the basement.

"Get out!" Hobbes reached around Sarah and yanked the door open then shoved her through it.

"Kyle, what's going on?"

"Go!"

"No!"

"Dammit, Sarah, get the hell out of here!" he screamed. She flinched away from him. Hobbes waited only a second to be sure she was heading to her truck before closing the door and unholstering his gun.


	3. three

**Any War but This One  
**_three: Gunshots in the basement._

Hobbes eased himself down the wooden basement steps, cursing the noises the rickety boards made under his feet. The shooting had ceased and the basement was eerily silent, devoid even of the rumbling of the furnace, and pitch dark. The power had been cut, probably during his argument with Sarah, and in the daylight lit kitchen, he hadn't noticed. Hobbes swore silently.

His eyes were just beginning to adjust to the darkness when he saw it lunging at him, a knife in one hand. He got off one useless shot, before the soldier knocked his gun away and slashed its blade at him. Hobbes made a grab for the soldier's wrist, nearly losing a finger for his efforts, then jumped back out of the way of the next slice. He hit the stair rail and heard the splintering of wood right before he went through, crashing onto a pile of cardboard boxes.

The soldier jumped down after him, knocking the breath out of him when it landed astride him. Hobbes managed a solid two handed hold on the soldier's forearm this time and struggled to force the weapon away from his throat.

Off in another corner of the basement he could hear shouting and toppling furniture. Then, much closer, the basement door slammed open.

"Kyle!" _BANG!_

The bullet grazed the soldier's shoulder and pinged off the floor a few inches from Hobbes' head. The soldier lurched off of him and stalked around the staircase to take out the more immediate threat of the human with a gun.

Hobbes scrambled to his feet and fumbled around in the dark to find his gun.

"Sarah!" he shouted, hands still skimming the concrete floor searching for his weapon. "Sarah! For fuck's sake, shoot it!" Why hadn't he heard any more shots? "Goddammit, shoot it already!"

Sarah unloaded the rest of the clip. The soldier toppled backwards down the stairs, nearly landing on Hobbes, who'd finally located his gun. He shot two more bullets into the soldier's head for good measure before rushing up to meet Sarah.

Her silhouette was hunched. One arm was extended to grasp the railing; the other was wrapped around her middle. Her breathing was labored.

Hobbes grabbed her by her shoulders and shook her. "The hell did you think you were doing?" he shouted. "I told you to go!"

At first, Sarah said nothing. Then she made a low whining noise and pitched forward into Hobbes. "Kyle," she murmured, "I think I'm bleeding… it got me… even though I shot it… Kyle…"

Hobbes caught her. Blood was seeping through her t-shirt.

"Jack!" Hobbes hollered into the dark. He wasn't even sure the priest was alive. "Jack! Little help up here!"

"Hobbes?" The laundry room door opened and the narrow tunnel of light created by a flashlight peered out. "Hobbes, is everything alright?" The beam from the flashlight darted around the basement, trying to find him.

"Erica, where's Jack?" Hobbes grunted and shifted Sarah's weight so he could carry her up the stairs.

"In here with me. We barricaded the door… and then it got stuck. Are you all right? Is the soldier gone?"

"It's dead."

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**A/N:** see you next week!


	4. four

**A/N:** Anyone else think that the whole 'you have to work for us or we'll hurt HER' is bit of a cliché? I mean really. Or maybe I'm just jealous a woman significant to Hobbes is being introduced. Maybe it's a sister. That would be lovely. Whoever she is, going to have to make her work with what I got going here, I suppose.

**

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Any War but This One**_  
four:_ _Paper cuts and lizard guts._

Hobbes sat at his kitchen table, across from Erica with his elbows on the table and his hands tangled in his hair. There was an unopened beer in front of him. "How is she?" He didn't look up when he heard Jack come in.

"She's fine." Jack rested a hand on Hobbes' shoulder. "The cut was shallow. No more damage really than a pair of children's scissors could do."

"But she passed out… there was – "

"Not all that much blood," Jack interrupted. "She was scared. Not mortally wounded." He patted the shoulder under his hand.

Hobbes groaned and shook his head. "Is she awake?"

"Yes. She's not speaking, though." Jack frowned.

Hobbes sighed and dragged himself up from the table. Without saying anything he stalked into the living room where Sarah was lying on the couch.

"You gave me an awful big scare over a paper cut, brat." Hobbes sat on the coffee table with his elbows on his knees and his hands folded.

Sarah pursed her lips and glared at the ceiling.

"The hell'd you think you were doing anyway coming back here?"

"I didn't 'come back'." She still wouldn't look at him. "I never left."

"Well the hell'd you do that then?" Hobbes huffed. "I told you to go."

When she didn't have an answer for that, he continued, "You should be dead."

"'S the nature of the business," she grumbled.

Hobbes raked his hands through his hair. "You're not getting involved in this business now, that's for damn sure. You're going to go home; you're father's going to see you, and he's probably going to hunt down my ass and lock you in padded room."

Her brow wrinkled as she thought about this. "Who says I'm going home?"

"And where the hell you think you're gonna go? You sure as hell aren't staying here."

"Why? 'Cuz it's 'dangerous'?"

"Among other things, yeah."

"Among other things," she echoed, annoyed, and sat up. "Whatever that means." She braced herself on the arm of the couch, like she was still uncertain that she wouldn't pass out again. "I want to see the man I shot. Then I'll be out of your hair."

"No."

"No?" Sarah choked on a humorless laugh. "I don't think you get to say no, Kyle. I have a right to look at the man I killed. Who tried to kill me."

"I said no."

"I don't give a damn what you say." She stood and walked around the couch, heading for the basement door.

Sarah opened the door. Perhaps because he didn't really think she'd act on her demand, perhaps because he didn't really want to manhandle the shirtless daughter of one of his more trusted associates, Hobbes was slow. When he finally made a grab for her, she was two steps into the basement and able to squirm out of reach. She lost her footing in the process and tumbled the rest of the way down, landing on the dead V soldier.

Sarah screamed. Seeing a dead body was one thing. Groping one, Hobbes imagined, was another entirely.

Hobbes yanked the chain to turn on the lights – resetting the circuit breakers was the first thing he'd done after leaving Sarah in Jack's care – and immediately wished he hadn't.

Sarah was struggling to push herself off the corpse without actually touching it when the lights lit up revealing its tattered abdomen and fractured skull. Blood, bone, brains, and lizard skin littered the floor. More reptilian scales showed where its synthetic human skin had been blown away.

Hobbes took the stairs two at a time. He hauled Sarah off the body less than gently with an arm around her middle, and then set her down on an old mattress a dozen steps away.

"Sarah?" He squatted in front of her and put his hands on her knees. Her eyes were squinted shut with tears leaking from the corners, and she was trembling. She was covered from shoulders to waist in blood and bits of flesh. Some had gotten in her hair as well.

"Hey, come on now. You're okay." He reached with one hand to brush away her tears. She took his hand in both of hers and pressed her face into the palm.

"Kyle?" she murmured, not relinquishing her hold on him, her breath ghosting over the ball of his hand. "What…" she swallowed and peered toward the stairs. All that could be seen of the V was a crooked ankle and foot. "What is that?"

Hobbes caressed her cheekbone with his thumb and sighed, "That's an awful long story, love." He scooped her up with an arm under her knees and another around her shoulders to carry her back upstairs. She turned her face into his chest when they passed over the dead soldier.

Jack and Erica were standing at the top of the stairs. "Is she…?"

"Hardly alright," Hobbes answered. He rounded the corner to another flight of stairs that lead up to the master bedroom and bath.

**

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A/N: **This is getting tons of hits (yay!) but not nearly enough reviews. Please tell me what you like (or don't like) or at least add me to your alerts, my dearest readers, so I know who you are.


	5. five

**Any War but This One  
**_five: washing away_

Hobbes set Sarah on the closed lid of the toilet while he turned on the shower and closed the curtain. She slumped against the wall, nearly falling onto the floor. He caught her, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and tucked her head under his chin.

"Stop that." Even as he said it, he stroked her hair back from her face. "What happened to being tough enough to take over your dad's arms dealing, hmm?" He gently pried her away from him and sat back on his heels when she didn't answer. "Get yourself cleaned up." He sighed and patted her knee. "I'll tell you everything when you're out of the shower, okay?"

She managed a nod. Using the edge of the sink for leverage, Hobbes got to his feet.

"Kyle?" she whispered just as he opened the door. He paused to look over his shoulder at her. "Please don't leave…"

She was really looking to have Garrick kill him. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Sure, kid, I'll be right here."

So he sat against the bathroom wall with his eyes closed and his head tilted back while she undressed, only opening them when he heard the scrape of the shower curtain rings over the rod. Then he stretched out his legs, crossed them at the ankles, put his hands behind his head, and waited.

Forty-five minutes later, the shower stopped running and Sarah poked her head around the curtain. Her face was flushed a deep shade of red, from the heat of the shower or because she just then remembered she'd asked him to wait in the bathroom, Hobbes wasn't sure. Regardless, she collected herself quickly.

"Towels? Clothes?"

Hobbes quirked an eyebrow at her. "Well, I see that shower's got you feeling better."

"…no." Sarah glanced at the floor and chewed her lip.

Hobbes sighed. "Towels are in here," he rapped his knuckles against the cabinet on his right, then hauled himself up to stand. "I'll see what I can find you to wear… It's all going to be big, though."

"There's a duffel in the backseat of my truck, if you just want to get that."

"Much better plan, yes." Hobbes walked out of the bathroom before anymore of the curtain wrapped around Sarah's torso could shift, and shut the door firmly behind him.


	6. six

**Any War but This One**  
_six: Sarah demands to know what's going on_

When Hobbes returned to his bedroom, Sarah was sitting on his bed, wearing only a towel wrapped around her like barely decent dress with her hands in her lap. She was tugging at her fingers and still worrying her bottom lip. He didn't expect her to say anything, and she startled him when she blurted, "I just can't figure it out!" after he dropped her bag beside her.

"Shooting a lizard man and finding out underneath he's a human, that would make perfect sense… but shooting a person and finding scales… Kyle," she looked up at him imploringly, "what's going on?"

"Been thinkin' about that this whole time, huh?"

"Yes."

"Get dressed." He turned to leave and give her privacy, but she grabbed his wrist. The motion jostled the towel, and its tucked in end slipped free. She caught it and held her makeshift robe closed without relinquishing Hobbes' arm.

"No."

"Sarah…" Hobbes started. The corners of his mouth twitched upward in the beginnings of a patronizing grin.

"Don't even start that 'I'll tell you later, it's a long story' bull shit with me. Tell me what's going on!"

"Sarah, put your clothes on." He tugged his arm, but she didn't let go.

"Not until you tell me why there's a lizard man in your basement."

Hobbes rolled his eyes and sighed. Sarah must have thought he was on the verge of giving in because her grip on his forearm loosened. "Absolutely not, sweetheart." He slipped his wrist free and started to leave.

Sarah jumped off the bed and threw herself between Hobbes and the door, backing up against it with her legs spread and one arm flung out away from her body. Her chest heaved under the further displaced towel, and several strands of still damp hair hung in her face and clung to her cheeks. Hobbes swallowed hard before managing to chuckle:

"You really think you can keep me from leaving this room?"

Sarah smirked. "You want to throw the naked daughter of Garrick Finnegan across your bedroom, be my guest, Kyle."

She had an annoyingly good point. "What do you wanna know, kid?"

"What's the deal with the creeper in the basement? 'S he have anything to do with the weapons you just bought?"

"Yes, he does."

"Who is he? Why's he have scales?"

Hobbes stuffed his hands in his pockets and eyed the ceiling. "If I told you that I'd have to kill you."

Sarah pounded her fist against the door hard enough to make it rattle on the closed hinges. "Dammit, Kyle, don't give me that bullshit!"

"It's not bullshit if it's true."

Sarah stomped her foot and yelled wordlessly, struggling to come up with a more eloquent answer besides demanding for the umpteenth time that he tell her what was going on. Her frustration was evident in her wrinkled forehead and pursed lips, so Hobbes offered:

"Come on, Sarah, just let it go."

"Like hell I will." She crossed her arms over her chest; the act of doing so, of course, required her to release her grip on the already precariously held up towel. It dropped into a crumpled navy blue heap around her feet. A moment passed before she deciphered Hobbes wide-eyed startled expression and realized what had happened. She swooped down to snatch the towel back up. The distraction gave Hobbes enough time to make a grab at the doorknob.

He bumped Sarah with the door in his rush to get out, hollering over his shoulder, "Your stomach is still bleeding! Put some clothes on. I'll send Jack up to redress it!"


	7. seven

**A/N:** I don't know that I like this piece as much as did when I started it. I do plan to finish it out, if only for the smut near the end, but every time I re-glance at the earlier installments, I kind of grumble and go "ugh, what was I thinking?". Hopefully, though, this is just a slump and I will start to love scribbling this again soon.

**

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Any War but This One**_  
seven: Hobbes deals with Sarah_

"Ryan's in the basement," Erica explained when Hobbes came into the kitchen. She had one hip leaned against the counter's edge and one hand braced on the granite top. "Dealing with the soldier," she added when Hobbes didn't say anything.

"Yeah, I figured that." Hobbes opened the fridge, grabbed a beer, then put it back without opening it.

"How's…" Erica trailed. She'd forgotten the girl's name.

"Sarah's fine." Hobbes reached for and replaced the beer again. He closed the fridge before finishing with a false cheery grin, "feisty as ever, in fact."

Erica crossed her arms over her chest in an obnoxiously familiar pose, but the way she cocked her head and pressed her lips into a thin line resembled a disbelieving mother not a stubborn teen. Hobbes didn't care. He could handle Sarah without consulting Erica.

"Sarah's all patched up again." Jack glanced at floor as he came in, then the window over the sink. "She's… uhm… demanding to see you, Hobbes."

"Yeah," he grumbled, "I know." As he trudged up the steps, he wished he'd had that beer.

Wished even harder for it when he opened the door.

Sarah sat at the foot of the bed with her legs crossed, wearing only her jeans, a bra, and the bandaging around her middle. Hobbes didn't even wait for the ultimatum. He picked up Sarah's shirt from where it was folded beside her and forced her head through the collar then tugged the rest of the shirt down to cover her torso, even though she hadn't put her arms through the sleeves.

"You gonna put that the rest of the way on?" he asked.

"Not until – "

"Yeah, that's kinda what I thought, but I wanted to ask nicely once." He picked her up – bound as she was by her shirt, the struggle she put up was laughable – and tossed her over his shoulder.

She tried to kick him in the stomach, and when that didn't work, she swung her leg the other way to hit him in the face. Hobbes tilted his head out of the way and held her feet down with his other arm. "You sonuvab – " In her thrashing she smacked her head on the wall, cutting herself off. "Fuck…" she whined, "Oww."

"Quit it. You're going to hurt yourself."

Sarah glared at the small of his back. "Asshole."

Hobbes dropped Sarah in the driver's seat of her truck. Pouting, she wriggled her arms through the sleeves of her ruined shirt. "Jerk," she mumbled, examining the stretched out fabric.

"Go home, Sarah. Whine about today to Daddy all you want. You'll thank me later." He waited a moment for Sarah to say something, and when she didn't, he shut her car door for her, and walked back to the house.

"Now that that's taken care of," he addressed the rest of team standing in the entry hall, "Why the hell was there a V soldier in my basement?"


	8. eight

**A/N:** Not much to say. Updates might slow because I'm working on four pieces currently (these two for V, two for True Blood to be posted a.s.a.p.), but I'll try to keep this alive for the couple people who are reading it.

**

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Any War but This One  
**_eight: an explanation for the V soldier_

Ryan sat forward in his seat and folded his hands on the table. "Anna no longer feels the FBI is doing an adequate job of catching Hobbes."

"Well, that's no surprise, as the FBI," Hobbes nodded toward Erica, "is making sure I'm not caught."

"Exactly. Now, Anna hasn't been able to send trackers, which means she must have gotten her information from someone down here. Joshua's already working on it, but so far can't come up with anyone close enough to us to know you were here…"

Jack dropped his head into his hands. "I can think of someone."

All eyes in the kitchen locked on the father.

"Well, out with it, padre." Hobbes leaned his forearms on the table.

"Chad Decker."

"The hell would he – "

"He's been visiting the church lately, suspicious about Fifth Column activity. The other day he thought he saw you," Jack glanced at Hobbes, "and confronted me about it. I assured him that if I knew anything about your whereabouts I would have notified the proper authorities."

"Clearly you weren't very convincing about it."

Jack sighed and nodded his sheepish agreement. "The other day, when I was on my way here, I noticed a car had followed me. I didn't get a good look at the driver, but…"

Hobbes smacked a hand on the table and started to get up out of his seat. "Perhaps you should have just kept your damn mouth shut. Seriously, father, how stupid are you? Taking questions from Anna's lap dog?" Erica put a hand on Hobbes shoulder, urging him to sit back down.

"I thought it would have been more suspicious if I hadn't commented!" Jack put both his hands on the table and leaned toward Hobbes.

"Perhaps you should learn how to lie better then!" If not for Erica's restraining hand, Hobbes would have taken a swing at the priest. "Before you get us all killed!"

"It's too late to argue about it now," Ryan interjected. "Obviously, we can't meet here anymore, and we need somewhere new to hide Hobbes."

"Thanks," Hobbes snarled, "but I'll hide myself. Forgive me for not wanting to relocate to another patch of unused parish property, padre." He got up from the table, shrugging off Erica.

Outside the window, something shattered, and someone yelped.

They raced outside to see a green pick up speeding off. Its wheels kicked up a cloud of dust in its wake.

Hobbes kicked at the broken pieces of terracotta littered under the windowsill, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and shook his head.


	9. nine

**A/N:** Shamelessly self-advertising here: if anyone reading is a True Blood fan, it'd be lovely if you checked out "Virgin's Blood", a short, sexy piece I scribbled up for the plotless fun of it.

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**Any War but This One****  
**_nine: Sarah offers Hobbes something he can't say no to_

Two weeks later, someone knocking on his hotel room door woke Hobbes up from the first shut eye he'd managed to get since the bed frame in the room next door stopped thumping against his wall. It was two in the afternoon, and when he opened the door, the smell of an impending rainstorm was a welcome respite from the cigarette smoke that was entwined with every fiber of the carpet, sheets, and curtains.

Sarah put her sunglasses on top of her head and marched into his room without being invited. Hobbes resisted saying something about the conspicuous, oversized red frames being a useless means of concealing her identity.

"You smoke?" Sarah wrinkled her nose upon taking a whiff of the hotel room air.

"No."

She dropped the medium sized metal suitcase she'd carried in with her on the bed. "This place is a dump. The hell are you staying here for?"

"So I can't be found," he grumbled.

She paused to consider this notion, then bent and unlatched the case so she could flip it open. She plopped down on the bed beside it and swept a hand over the weapon inside.

"What's that?"

"The latest and greatest in long distance armor piercing technology." She took out the gun and tossed it from one hand to the other. "In a convenient, portable package."

"I didn't order any more weapons."

"Oh, I know, but I thought they might be helpful in your battle with the lizard men. Figure these," she replaced the gun in its molding and took out a few intimidating brass colored bullets instead, "have gotta be more effective at busting through scales."

Hobbes was already walking toward the hotel room door. He laughed, "Real cute, kid. I'm not interested, though."

"You sure? They're all the rage with the Fifth Column right now." She crossed her legs and pretended to be nonchalantly studying a bullet.

Hobbes hesitated for a second too long before answering, "You don't know what you're talking about. Go home."

"The hell I don't. You think you're the only Fifth Column buying weapons off me?"

Hobbes turned around and leaned back against the door with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet crossed at the ankles. "You don't want to get involved with this, Sarah."

"It's not a matter of 'want', Kyle." She closed the gun case. "I'm already involved. And I figured you wouldn't be interested in the guns. Your party's doing fine with what it's got. I'm offering you contacts. Fifth Column that I've sold weapons to, so you can start an army." She crossed her own arms in a pose to mirror Hobbes'.

"No."

"No?"

"That's right, no. I don't trust that you have good sources."

"That's bullshit, and you know it!"

Hobbes shrugged. "Still, no. Go home."

"Fine." Sarah got to her feet taking the suitcase with her. The hand not holding it was balled into a trembling fist. She thrust her chin out and glared up at Hobbes. "I'll just take the names to Erica. Or Jack. I'm sure one of _them_ will be grateful for my help."

And if one of them wouldn't, some other disorganized Fifth Column member, someone like the late Alex Caruso, who was in no way capable of adequately protecting her, would. Hobbes was annoyed that the petulant child's safety had become important to him, but the thought of the V's getting their scaly claws on her, which could jeopardize all of them, seemed justification enough for his concern. He stretched out an arm and braced his hand on the door frame, blocking Sarah's path.

"Stupid brat, gun running wasn't dangerous enough for ya, huh?"

Sarah's eyebrows knit together above her nose.

"Get anything you need out of your truck. Let's go meet the lizard killing club." He sighed, grabbed his still packed duffel and car keys and followed Sarah out to the parking lot.


	10. ten

**A/N:** Finally, the beginnings of sexual tension. Enjoy!

* * *

**Any War but This One  
**_ten: Sarah wants more Fifth Column involvement_

"Ryan's not coming. Something came up with Val. Jack's on his way." Erica stepped back from the door so Sarah and Hobbes could come in. "So, what's the news?" she asked, turning a corner into the living room.

"The news is that my location was compromised," Hobbes glared at Sarah before following Erica, "and I needed to get the hell out."

Sarah folded her hands behind her back and pretended to study the pictures hanging in entry hall, ambling after him.

"More importantly, though, this is Sarah Finnegan resident arms dealer for suburban New York City. She has connections to other Fifth Column."

Sarah set her bag on the coffee table then pulled out a blue folder and offered it to Erica. Erica opened it and flipped through the papers inside. Names, phone numbers, and last known addresses were all listed. Some contacts even had crude black and white copies of driver's license photos next to them.

"Wow." Erica looked first at Hobbes, then at Sarah.

Sarah shrugged and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her coat. "I do my research. The Finnegan business is pretty far under the FBI's radar, but I can't be too careful. Gotta make sure I'm not being set up." She eyed Erica knowingly. "Warning you, though, most of those guys aren't gonna do you much good as soldiers. Some of those idiots wouldn't know a nine mil from a squirt gun, let alone how to shoot one – "

"All the more reason we find them asap." Hobbes clapped Sarah on the shoulder, startling her into silence, "before they accidently blow each other's brains out." The FBI agent in Erica was dying at the thought of firearms in untrained hands, and it was evident on her face.

Erica's phone buzzed on the coffee table. She flipped it open. "Agent Evans speaking."

"Are you alright?"

Hobbes and Sarah exchanged glances.

"Do you need – "

"Alright, Jack. Stay safe. Bye."

"The hell was that?" Hobbes asked as soon as Erica hung up.

"Chad Decker stopped by the church today, and when Jack went to leave he noticed a car following him. He couldn't shake it, so he's not coming."

"First smart decision the padre's made when it comes to Decker, I think."

Sarah looked up at Hobbes as though expecting an explanation, and when he didn't offer one, she shrugged again. "No worries, I'm sure I'll meet him and that Ryan guy next time. It was nice meeting you, Erica." She offered the FBI agent her hand, which Erica took in a firm shake.

"Next time?" Hobbes quirked an eyebrow at her and folded his arms over his chest. The corners of his mouth were twitching upwards in the beginnings of a smirk.

"Yeah…" Sarah collected her bag off the coffee table. "When I have the next batch of Fifth Column contacts." She was already making her way out, tension in her shoulders when she rounded the corner into the entry hall.

"I guess we'll just let ourselves out, then." Hobbes followed after her. By the time he caught up, she was leaning against the front bumper of his SUV, arms and ankles crossed. "The hell is your problem?" he asked, fishing the keys out of his pocket.

"You are completely fucking confused if you think all I'm going to do is deliver contacts to you."

Hobbes chuckled and unlocked the driver's side door. "What else exactly do you think you're going to do?"

"I want to fight." She came up beside him, standing such that he couldn't open his door without hitting her.

Hobbes sighed, left the keys in the lock, and leaned one shoulder on the car. "And what makes you think you can do that?"

Sarah squared her shoulders and stood up a little straighter. She still barely made it to his chin, and she had to tip her head back a little to look him in the face. "I killed that V soldier."

"You almost shot me in the process."

"It was dark, but I still missed ya. And the soldier's _still_ dead."

"That was a fluke." Hobbes reached for his door handle. "Something must've short circuited in the psycho killer because there is no way you should have been able to get off a killing shot with it that close."

Sarah grabbed his wrist. Hobbes still could have opened the door, but he humored her and held still.

"Or maybe I waited until it was right on top of me on purpose, because I knew that was the only way to kill it."

"Cute, but no."

Sarah forced herself between Hobbes and the SUV, still holding onto his wrist. They were nearly flush against each other, and the proximity meant Sarah had to crane her neck more awkwardly to meet his amused stare. "Why the hell don't you want me to join the resistance, Kyle? Why do you care if I'm involved with the Fifth Column?"

Making use of the hand on his forearm, Hobbes flipped her around and slammed her into the side of the SUV. He twisted her arm behind her back until she whined. "I don't care how tangled up you get in this Fifth Column mess," he leaned forward to say into her ear. He could smell the light floral scent of her shampoo with the underlying musk of perfume.

Sarah let out a shaky breath. She jerked her arm, but couldn't get free. Hobbes pressed her harder against the car. "You're just not cut out to fight in this war."

"Like hell I'm not," she ground out, struggling to look over her shoulder at him.

Hobbes laughed and released her arm. "Get in the car, brat."

Sarah ran a hand through her hair. Chest heaving, she skulked around to the passenger door.


End file.
